


boxes

by blurring_the_lines



Series: collection [39]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: (They're Packing for College You Guys), Angst, Angst and Feels, Annabeth Chase-centric (Percy Jackson), Childhood Memories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I achieved fluff for a bit there but, Love, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Canon, past loss, y'know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:48:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29022981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurring_the_lines/pseuds/blurring_the_lines
Summary: When Percy had somehow taken apart her walls she so meticulously built, so damn carefully without even trying. And she had fallen in love for the first time in her life.Even though her head had always been stronger than her heart and she had tried so desperately to hate this stupid son of Poseidon (who was definitely not good looking).He had done it.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: collection [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041193
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	boxes

**Author's Note:**

> this turned out to be way longer than i thought it would be and i think i'm too proud of myself for this, but i hope you like!

Annabeth took a good look around her almost empty room. Besides the cardboard boxes that were scattered throughout the space, the only thing in it was her four-poster bed, an old desk with the white paint peeling off of it, and a full trash bag hanging off her bedroom doorknob. Percy stood on one side of the room, looking through her closet and putting her clothes into a box, despite her protests, occasionally running a hand through his unruly curls. 

He had shown up, fully convinced that she needed help, a container of Sally’s blue cookies in his left hand. She really hadn’t needed help, but she was glad he came because it cut the packing time by at least and half, and, well, he brought cookies.

She inhaled deeply, dust particles bringing in a musky smell that reminded her of the inside of libraries. Her room had always smelt like that- between the countless books she owned and the mini collection of building models, there was always a certain aroma. 

Even though this wasn’t technically her childhood bedroom- Camp Half-Blood and cabin six had taken care of that- she had still spent the last six years, minus the summers, in it, and between the surprise quests that were bound to happen and all the classes she was taking for college, she didn’t know when the next time she would see it would be.

She looked down at the open but fully packed box at her feet and had a sudden urge to unpack everything and put it back.

If she left, that meant that she was willing to accept the change. It meant that everything she had built so intricately- the foundation and the support system- all of it could collapse. The change would erupt into an earthquake and if what she had made wasn’t strong enough, it would give way around her. She wasn’t sure she would have the strength or the resources to build it from the ground up again.

It had been twelve, careful years of building and rebuilding brick-by-brick. Like when she was seven and completely helpless, completely defenseless as the spiders flooded into her room for the third night, biting her and crawling on her as she screamed, and sobbed for her dad. 

Like when nobody but Helen had heard and she came in yelling about Annabeth’s nonsense that had _ woken up Matthew and Bobby again, _ and _ just grow up already, if it wasn’t real, which it’s  _ not _ , they’re just  _ bugs. 

Or when Helen had shut the door, enclosing her in complete darkness and Annabeth had panicked, trying to remember how to breathe because she knew they’d come again, as she carefully packed her bag and slipped out her bedroom window, crying.

She had been chased to Virginia by nightmares and monsters that haunted her like the feeling of being alone.

But then Thalia and Luke had found her and offered to help her rebuild her world with the promise of safety and love and family. It had meant everything to Annabeth.

But that was before the night on half-blood hill when the monsters had finally caught up to them and they were terrifyingly outnumbered. Before Luke had pulled her away, both of them sobbing, his hands leaving bloody smears on her shirt while Grover cried silently, trying to get them to safety. Before Annabeth had watched her best friend get ripped to shreds because there was nothing she could do about it. Before she saw Luke cry for the first time and almost a decade later she still had nightmares about it, which left her vomiting into the toilet as an empty feeling settled into her chest.

Almost a decade later when Luke broke his promise for the last time and she watched him die in front of her, too. Almost a decade later when Percy had somehow taken apart her walls she so meticulously built, so _ damn  _ carefully without even  _ trying _ . And she had fallen in love for the first time in her life.

Even though her head had always been stronger than her heart and she had tried so desperately to hate this stupid son of Poseidon (who was definitely  _ not _ good looking).

He had done it.

Percy now, she realized with a start, was in front of her, gently grabbing her wrists before slipping his hands into hers.

“Are you okay?” he asked, softly, his green eyes searching hers.

She wanted to say  _ no _ . Because how could he be so patient with her and love her as if she deserved it? Why didn’t he leave as everyone else did? Even her and her dad’s relationship was only held together by duct tape, like these boxes.

She bit her lip to keep from crying, “How-” her voice cracked anyway and Percy’s eyes filled with so much concern and so much love and it really wasn’t helping, “How do you do it?” 

“Do what?” he whispered, gaze never faltering. 

She wanted him to hater her and she wanted his eyes to fill with anything other than the care they held for her now. Maybe then it’d e easier to run because she was so scared that she would fuck up or that he would leave, too, and it’d be too much to handle and she would just…

break.

“How do you just,” she didn’t want to finish, because she didn’t want to sound stupid and she didn’t want to feel stupid because the answer should’ve been obvious. Everyone else had it figured out, why didn’t she? But the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it and once she started the rest of it followed, “How do you just  _ love _ ? Let people in? Like you won’t get hurt? Like you have nothing to lose? Like it’s  _ easy _ ?”

His expression somehow softened even more than it already was and he guided her to her bed and wrapped his arms around her. She pressed her face into his shoulder, letting out a sob, because as far as she was concerned he had shattered her like a glass vase, leaving nothing but a wilting rose behind.

She could hear him whispering gentle nothings of “I love you’s” and “Baby, I’m sorry’s” into her ear and she tried to get under control because she knew it wasn’t fair that she dumped everything onto him. That wasn’t what he was here for.

She took a deep breath that left cold feelings in her toes and the end of her fingertips, an invisible weight on her shattered-like-glass heart.

“I’m sorry,” she managed, forcing herself to pull away and wipe her eyes.

He immediately frowned and shook his head, “No, no, don’t be sorry ‘Beth. Never be sorry,” and he leans forward until his forehead touches her and she almost collapses under the touch.

She takes another shaky breath as he meets her eyes, again, “I love you,” and she wants to ask  _ why _ because for the God’s sake she just had a breakdown over some boxes, but when she opens her mouth he kisses her before pulling away and continuing and it’s like he’s read her mind.

“I love you because you’re beautiful and you’re so smart and so brave and Poseidon knows how many times you’ve saved my life. I- I wouldn’t be here with you, Wise Girl. I love you because you’re you,”

She wants to snort and say something clever along the lines of, ‘Cliche, much?’ or ‘Gee, how long did it take you to come up with that?’ but he’s brought her hand up to his lips, pressing them together in a kiss to her knuckles every time he compliments her, and it’s left her more than slightly breathless.

“I love you, Annabeth Chase, and you mean everything to me,” and once again she wants to say something sarcastic (‘save it for your wedding vows, Seaweed Brain’) but her lungs are still refusing to work properly (and the very thought of wedding vows in the future makes her heart pound and her head spin- more than they already are)

She wants to say it back- how amazingly patient and gentle he is and how she can’t live without him, how he’s like a drug that she’s taken so much of that the withdrawal symptoms would just be death and pain and suffering. How he makes her feel like she matters and she doesn’t deserve him- but her brain can’t form a single coherent thought for once in her life, and if she tries opening her mouth, she’d probably just sit there and gape like a fish at him, so when he says, “and I’m never  _ ever _ going to leave you,” with so much love and convention it’s like he’s using charm speak, she knows he’s not and he’s just telling her the truth.

So, she leans forward into him and kisses him, trying to push everything into it- how she feels about him, how he makes her feel, how much she needs him-and even if it works, she knows he’ll never understand because he has only moved her wilted rose into a plastic vase so that it doesn’t break again.

She still wants to somehow communicate to him, someway, how much he’s helped her, even if it’s just half a fraction because even that is an infinitesimal amount- but she seems to be short-circuiting, malfunctioning as a human being, so she does her very best to give it to him through her words when she whispers, “I love you too, Perce,” (her voice cracks, though, so maybe she doesn’t do terribly at it) and kisses him again, pulling everything she’s got from her gut and trying to convey that she really, truly does, and she can’t possibly live without him.

He hums, slightly, and she forces herself to pull away, already missing his heat, and turning back to the boxes scattered in her room. They just look like cardboard and duct tape, now, little things that don’t really mean anything. 

She thinks, possibly, not every change is so bad and if she gives this one a chance, then maybe she can get through it.

And if she can’t then she knows she has people to back her up when she needs a new vase.


End file.
